


Into the woods to Peter's house...

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: The first time they played, Peter gave Stiles a head start, caught him in two and a half minutes, and then proceeded to hold him down naked on the forest floor and blow him until he saw stars, before fucking him into the dirt.I read that sentence in Run Rabbit, and the boys told me what actually happened that night. They said I could share with you guys.(This is just shameless porn.)





	Into the woods to Peter's house...

*Takes place a week after the events of Sugar Wolf.*

 

It’s a few days after what Stiles openly calls his Dumbass Moment and what Peter secretly calls the Big Scare, although he’ll deny it if you ask him.

Peter’s being kind and considerate, showing affection in ways that aren’t sex, proving he cares.

(He’s secretly not ready for them to just jump right back into bed, the emotional bruising still a little fresh.)

Stiles does _not_ appreciate the thought.

He’s taken out to dinner at a nice restaurant, and Peter wears that fucking vest and shirt combo that he knows drives Stiles wild. The spend the evening like proper adults on a proper date, talking and joking, Peter insisting on paying, and afterwards they go back to Stiles’ place, where Peter kisses him breathless, and then declines the offer to come in, and just…leaves.

The next night it’s the movies. Same-same but different, a lovely evening that ends in nothing but a kiss.

On the third night, sitting at yet another restaurant, Stiles asks Peter  “Not that I’m not enjoying the company, but who the hell is running BBW? It must be costing you a fortune in wages”

They haven’t really talked about money - Stiles has some, he assumes Peter has some too, that’s as far as his interest goes, really.

When the assholes the other night were talking about Peter’s fortune, he assumed it was one of those local myths. So he’s actually not prepared for Peter’s reply.

“Little rabbit, if the bar never made another cent, I still wouldn’t have to work a day in my life. I don’t need the money; I do it because I’m bored, darling.”

Stiles thinks for a minute, and asks, “So how come you were working so many hours when I first started coming in there, and now you’re hardly there at all?”

Peter looks a little sheepish. “I might have worked a few extra nights once you started coming in regularly” he confesses. Stiles gapes.

“What?” he defends. “You did flirt so prettily, rabbit, it was very entertaining. And when I found out you were interested? It made working all those hours worthwhile.”

Stiles actually blushes a little at this confession.

But he doesn’t let himself be sidetracked from his main purpose, which is to get his hands on any part of Peter that he can. They haven’t had any kind of sex since their argument, and Stiles is kinda used to getting laid on the regular now and this, sudden celibacy isn’t what he signed up for. He doesn’t like it.

“You know what would be worthwhile tonight, wolfman? A little action” he winks.

“Really, Stiles? I’m trying to do the right thing here, but you’re making it awfully hard” Peter replies, and oh, if that isn’t an opening Stiles doesn’t know what is.

He throws a slew of terrible one liners at Peter, in an attempt to convince him.

“I hope I _am_ making it hard”

“You’re not helping, Stiles “

‘I _could_ help, if you’d let me come over there”

“We aren’t having sex”

“Well, not _yet_ we’re not”

“Please Stiles, stop”

“That’s not what you usually say”

“I can’t take this”

“ _That’s_ what you normally say”

 

In the end, Peter kisses him just to shut him up. Stiles takes the chance to slide his hand up Peter’s back, massaging those glorious muscles. Then he tilts his head back and exposes his long, pale throat. He knows it’s dirty pool, but he’s young and desperate, OK?

And besides, it works. Peter sucks a dirty hickey into Stiles’ neck before he gives in,and they leave without ordering and head back to Peter’s place, where Stiles hopes to get his itch well and truly scratched.

But when they get inside, it’s not desperate, it’s slow and sensual, Peter rolling his hips gently and nibbling down the back of Stiles neck , muttering “missed you rabbit, missed this ” as he slides in from behind, Stiles bracketed flat against the bed, laying on his stomach, feeling safe, feeling good. It reminds him of how gentle Peter was their first time, and it feels a hell of a lot like Peter does care.

They dance a slow dance, rolling together in the sheets, making out, making up, repairing the damage done by harsh words and missed cues, and by the time they are both spent, it feels like they’re  almost back to normal, like they can leave it behind them now.

Stiles mutters sleepily “that’s my kind of date Peter, I’m addicted to your wolfy ass”.

Peter thinks about that. He thinks whether it’s time to talk to Stiles about the cabin. He thinks it might be.

 

Two night later, he turns up at Stiles’ door with a bag of goodies. Stiles opens it curiously, and finds a bottle of the secret wolf oil, a fairly large steel plug, and what looks like…..old clothes? Okay, then. He quirks an eyebrow at Peter and waits.

Peter sits him down and begins talking “would you be interested in playing…a game? I’ll be the big bad wolf, and you can be my little rabbit. There’s a place I know near here.  A lovely patch of woods, with a cabin. It’s very good for hunting. My wolf likes it there. He likes it a lot.” His next words are careful, deliberate, so there can be no misunderstanding “ My wolf likes to chase rabbits” and oh, that does sound like a good game….

Peter warns him what to expect, warns him that it’ll be intense, and there’ll be no stopping unless he safewords.

They set a few ground rules.

If Peter catches Stiles, he can do what he wants with him.

If Stiles makes it to the cabin, he gets to call the shots.

They put the traffic light system in place.

They arrange a time to meet there the next night.

 

Peter even promises him a head start, and Stiles is confident he can make good ground.  He’s young, he’s fit, it’ll be a  piece of cake.

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

 

 

He turns up in his old clothes, feeling a little silly standing in the middle of nowhere and looking for Peter, but he’s nowhere to be found.  He’s just starting to wonder if he’s in the right spot, when he feels arms around his waist as Peter approaches him from behind, already naked. A warm breath huffs on his neck as Peter asks “ready rabbit?” And suddenly he pushes him forwards towards the trees, roaring “RUN, RABBIT!” and Jesus that’s frightening, and Stiles’ heart nearly leaps out of his chest. He starts running, dodging through the trees, trying to not run in a straight line, trying to make it a challenge.

Here’s what Stiles discovers.

  * His cardio fitness is really not what he thought it was.
  * Running through trees at night is hard.
  * Running through tress at night with a giant metal plug up your well-oiled ass is nigh on impossible.
  * A minute spent running in the woods while waiting for Peter to start chasing him is simultaneously the longest and shortest minute of his life.
  * Peter is stealthy as fuck.
  * Being tackled from behind in the dark woods can almost be a relief, if you know who’s doing the tackling.



As they tumble to the ground together, Peter is laughing and Stiles is gasping, cursing his lack of fitness, and crying out “No fair wolfman, you can see in the dark!”

Peter flashes his eyes at Stiles and grins. And then tears the clothes right off him with a growl, and flips him onto his back, straddling him across his hips.

“I’ve got you now, little rabbit” he breathes, pressing the tips of his claws into Stiles’ chest and drawing downwards, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to leave four red lines that proclaim “Mine”.  Stiles moans, and tries to move, but Peter has him securely pinned down, the leaves and twigs digging into his back and ass, and it’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s also _hot as hell_ to be so helpless in the dark, pinned down by an unfairly hot guy.

Suddenly Peter’s hands are firmly around his hips, holding him down securely, and Peter’s head is between his thighs, and he feels the sudden wetness of a mouth on his cock, and holy shit, he didn’t even realise how hard he was, what with the adrenaline running through his system. He briefly thinks to himself that Peter is a _genius_ for coming up with this game, and then he’s not thinking at all, because all he can feel is Peter’s mouth, gliding up and down, and a sudden burst of suction as the wolf hollows his cheeks and sucks _harder_ , and damn, that man has no gag reflex, and Stiles is trying to thrust up, but the grip on him is too firm, and he’s reduced to urgent twitches of his hips as he moans and whines.  Peter rises his head long enough to command “keep still!” before going back to doing amazing things with his mouth. He’s deep throating now, like he was born for it, swallowing and humming around Stile’s shaft, and he feels his balls draw up suddenly and shouts as he comes down Peter’s throat.

He’s panting again, but it’s no longer from running.

He barely has time to recover before his legs are being lifted up and slung over Peters shoulders, there’s a hand tugging the base of his plug and drawing it out roughly, and he hopes to God he’s used enough oil, because Peter had warned him that the only prep he was likely to get tonight was whatever he managed himself, before they started playing.

He’s briefly reminded of the maze, only this isn’t staged, this is _real,_ and so is the stretch and burn of his ass as Peter forces his way roughly inside, while chanting “take it, take it, let me _in_ ”, pressing forwards until his full length is inside. He fucks hard and fast then, panting and moaning “so tight, fuck” and he thrusts in and out, forcing Stile’s back down into the dirt.  Stiles can feel his body being pushed backwards  every time Peter drives in, and he thinks wildly to himself that Peter is actually going to fuck him into the ground tonight if he keeps this up.

Peter is unstoppable.

 

He’d thought this would be quick, that the adrenaline would have Peter ready to blow, but here he is, maybe twenty minutes later, Peter still pushing in and out mercilessly.

 

Stiles thinks briefly of the word yellow.

 

 His back hurts, scraped raw from leaves and debris, and his hips ache, and his ass is red and raw, and he thinks from the sting and burn of it that he might actually be bleeding  down there, and at some stage he’s started crying real tears, sobbing brokenly  and pleading “no no no ,no…please, no more…..”  but he _doesn’t_ say the word, and so there’s no respite from  the _pound, pound, pound_  of Peter’s dick in his ass, keeping time with his heartbeat.

It feels like it goes on forever, the wet slap of flesh on flesh, the sting, the stretch, the burn, the pain, the relentless battering of his  shredded asshole, until finally, _finally_ he hears Peter howl, and feels his body tense up, and Peter rams himself forwards with one last mighty thrust as he comes.

 

Stiles lays in the dirt, tears drying on his face, a crick in his neck, his back and ass scratched and bruised, cramps in his calves, claw marks on his chest, his channel raw and bleeding.

He thinks he’s never felt this good, this wanted, this _powerful,_ in his life.

He’s brought Peter to this, he thinks, as he looks at the blissed out expression on the wolf’s face.

Once Peter rejoins the party, so to speak, his eyes rake over Stile’s body, and his brow furrows painfully as he takes in the wreck of a man before him. Before he can open his mouth and start apologizing, though,  Stiles puts a finger on his lips, and tells him, a little shakily “I’m fine, Wolfman. This is _literally_ the best night of my life. I fucking _loved_ it, you have no idea, dude. We are _so_ doing this again. Now pick me up and carry me to this cabin we were supposed to be going to, because I think I need to lay down, for like, twelve hours.”

And Peter hears his steady heartbeat, and sees the sincerity in his eyes, and finds no lie in either.

Peter’s wolf is as proud as punch as he carries his prize into the cabin, Peter nuzzling  his throat possessively all the way and whispering endearments and praise.

Stiles soaks up the warmth and affection, and decides that it’s _definitely_ been the best night of his life.

 Next time though, he thinks tiredly, he wants to make it to at least three minutes before being caught. Maybe if he runs longer, Peter might fuck him harder….

**Author's Note:**

> First person who can guess what Peter's bar's full name is can have a mini fic based on your prompt, as long as it features these two idiots, it that's something anyone would be interested in.


End file.
